Absolution
by Garbage and City Lights
Summary: Two old acquaintances meet in the Leaky Cauldron, 10 years after 4th year... for what? None other than absolution. Songfic, song provided by Alanis Morrissette. Angst and mild swearing.


_What's the matter, Mary Jane? You had a hard day  
As you place the 'don't disturb' sign on the door  
You lost your place in line again, what a pity  
You never seem to want to dance anymore  
  
_The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron looked upon the hunched shadow in the corner in different ways. Some sneered with distaste, some shook their heads sympathetically, and others simply clucked their tongues in a 'what a sad life to live' sort of way. But no matter the reaction given to the black mass who sipped whiskey, the customers went on with their everyday business and never gave him a second thought.  
  
He could see them all.  
  
Perhaps they didn't think he could, but the black lump in the corner did indeed see the careful looks shot to him. He heard every snicker, felt every frown. But that was fine. Let them sniff and laugh-- he didn't care anymore. They could laugh until the sky fell, for all he cared. It was the bar tab that he was worried about. His frequent -- no, daily -- trips to the Leaky Cauldron had built up quite a bill for the whiskeys he ordered. _Sure, _he had told the barkeep,_ I can pay. _I just need some time. And time they would give him -- trusting little fools. Ah, well. It would give him the opportunity to build up some petty cash -- and an even bigger bill.  
  
Shifting a little, the black form in the corner took another sip of amber liquid. Shadows hid his face rather well, but there _was _a face on that lump. It was pale and pointed, hardened by life's blows. Cold and emotionless. It would seem that he was a stone were it not for the shadows beneath his eyes. Dark circles had slowly settled beneath eyes of faded gray, proving that this statue did indeed feel. He felt the lack of sleep upon him like a weight, felt the pang of hunger like a knife cutting deep. But those eyes... those eyes felt more. They were not a cold, steely gray -- rather the opposite. His eyes were a softer gray, a sort of gray like an old faded rag. The gaze had been weakened by years of hardship and scorn. And hard as he tried to hide it, his gray eyes proved the one vulnerable point in his face. They showed that he hurt._  
  
It's a long way down  
On this roller coaster  
The last chance streetcar  
Went off the track  
And you're on it  
  
_Silvery-tinged blonde hair rested before his eyes to hide his pain. He could no longer say that the silver glint was inherited -- the strands of white gold were now touched ever so slightly by the silver of age. His hair was turning gray much too early. He resented that; his life had already been stolen. Must his looks now go with it? His father had always ranted about absolution, but absolution was nothing. Absolution didn't give back good looks, nor did it return pride and prestige. Grumbling beneath his breath, the young man took another sip of amber liquid and remained motionless in his shadows.  
  
Into the Leaky Cauldron strode the young woman, dressed in a neat business suit and shoes. Her brown hair was kept neatly back in a bun, but her face upset her entire professional appearance. She was glancing around hastily and chewing her lower lip. Her shifting eyes seemed to say, I never should have come here. I never should have come. The patrons looked to her with respect; now _here _was a person of good standards. Not at all like that no-good drunkard in the corner.  
  
The young woman, fiddling with a loose button on her dress shirt, slowly made her way to the bar.  
"Excuse me," she murmured, voice infinitely polite. The bartender turned. "Could you tell me if you've seen Mr. Malfoy today?" The woman checked a small slip of paper nervously. "He was supposed to meet me--"  
"Now what does a nice girl like you have to discuss with that villain?" The bartender wrinkled his nose in disgust. The young woman just smiled pleasantly.  
"I don't know yet. He said he would tell me when I met him." The tender shrugged and pointed at a table in the corner.  
"Over there. Don't say I didn't warn you." He turned to the glasses once again, and the woman headed for the table -- after a moment's hesitation._  
  
I hear you're counting sheep again, Mary Jane  
What's the point of trying to dream anymore?  
I hear you're losing weight again, Mary Jane  
Do you ever wonder who you're losing it for?  
  
_"Sit down." The voice mumbled a command the moment she approached the table. The woman blinked a little, staring at the shadow in the darkness.  
"Mr. Malfoy...?"  
"Sit," he ordered quietly. The young woman sat. There was a long period of silence before the shadow spoke again. "It's been a long time, Hermione."  
"Indeed it has," she murmured, crossing her legs neatly. "I hate to seem rude, but I'm running a rather tight schedule, and--" She was interrupted by a slow chuckle. Hermione blinked in surprise. "What?"  
"That's an awfully cold way to greet an old classmate." The young man leaned forward on his elbows, letting the light hit his pallid face. Hermione jerked her head back in a tight sort of nod. She looked a little less polite.  
"Tell me what you want, Malfoy. I need to get going."  
"Draco." The man crossed his arms comfortably over his chest. "Call me Draco."  
"Fine, _Draco_," Hermione said through clenched teeth, "would you please tell me what you wanted to tell me so I can get back to doing my job?"  
"That's right." Draco's voice was soft, thoughtful. "You're a successful businesswoman now, eh?"  
"Yes," she replied stiffly. Malfoy chuckled.  
"Hm. I always knew you'd make it in the real world."  
"Draco, stop playing your little games. I need to--"  
"Get going, I know." Draco paused to take a sip from his whiskey. "I just wanted to catch up on old times." At this, Hermione snorted and crossed her arms.  
"Old times? Malfoy, you tormented us during school! We _hated _you! What could you possibly want to catch up on?" Not answering, Draco ran a slender finger around the rim of his glass.  
"So, how are Weasley and Potter?"  
"You're avoiding the question," snapped Hermione._  
  
Well, it's full speed baby  
In the wrong direction  
There's a few more bruises  
If that's the way  
You insist on heading  
  
_"Don't you want to know what's been going on in _my _life?" Draco murmured. Hermione blinked, then flushed red in the dim light.  
"No-- no, not really."  
"Because you've read it in the papers," he said quietly, not looking up. She shifted uncomfortably.  
"That's not what I said."  
"But it's what you meant." Draco paused, then took his glass in his hand. He didn't drink. "What all do you know?" There was a long hesitation before Hermione answered.  
"I-- I know that you've been trying to join the Ministry." She began fiddling with the loose button on her shirt once again. "And that they won't let you in."  
"No, they won't." Draco leaned against the table coolly. "And do you know why?" Hermione shook her head silently. "Because even though I'm doing freelance spying for them, they wouldn't _dare _put my dirty name on their letterhead." She blinked in surprise.  
"You're spying for the Ministry?" Draco nodded and took a sip of his whiskey.  
"Mm hm. I have a handy little membership card that gets me into the Death Eaters meetings quite easily." He smirked darkly, but didn't lower his sleeve. There was no need to. Hermione swallowed thickly, then frowned at him.  
"So you're supplying them with valuable information and they still won't let you join?"  
"Nope." He smiled thinly. "Welcome to real life, Miss Granger." Her frown deepened.  
"So why don't you just stop spying for them?"  
"Because then I would be on their bad side," Draco muttered. "If I'm not helping them, I must be helping the enemy. At least -- that's how their paranoid little minds work." There was a long period of silence. Hermione cleared her throat to break it.  
"So... how are your parents?" She winced the moment she said it, but it was too late to take the question back. Draco's gaze fell to the tabletop.  
"Well, you read about my father, no doubt," he murmured. Hermione shook her head. Draco tilted his own. "No? Well, Voldemort caught him selling secrets to the Ministry. He was -- severely punished." He left this statement hanging in the air as he took another sip of whiskey. Hermione frowned.  
"What do you--"  
"Cructacius Curse," he said quietly. Her hand was promptly pressed to her mouth.  
"Oh -- oh, I'm so--"  
"He's catatonic now." Draco scowled at the table. "Voldemort showed no mercy." Before he could be heard showing sympathy for his father, the man quickly covered it with a snort. "Serves him right, the bastard."  
"And--" Well, the untouchable subject had already been touched, so Hermione went on. "--your mother?" Draco looked at her in confusion, then nodded with a short laugh.  
"Oh, that's right," he mumbled. "The papers stayed away from that lovely little subject." He smirked darkly, swishing what was left of his whiskey around in the glass. "Dead." A little gasp popped from Hermione's mouth.  
"She's--"  
"Yep," he quipped, downing the rest of the amber liquid. "Father killed her himself. With his bare hands." Hermione was aghast.  
"Your--"  
"Mm hm. Got himself real smashed one night. Apparently, he thought she was trying to turn him in to the Ministry." Draco smiled dimly at the memory. "Ah, how he loved that bottle of his." She stared at him in disbelief. Before she could say anything, he looked up with a sideways smirk. "Surprised, Hermione? Yes, there _are _families that are not picture perfect."_  
  
Please be honest, Mary Jane  
Are you happy?  
Please, don't censor your tears  
  
_Hermione covered her shock and folded her hands.  
"And you, Draco? How have you been?" Malfoy grinned at her from beneath the shadows.  
"Do you really have to ask?" He sobered and looked her over. "I know you've been doing well."  
"Mm." Hermione paused and let out a little sigh. "Draco, please. Let's not beat around the bush. Can you just tell me why we're here?" Draco didn't answer her. There was a very long silence that lingered thickly in the air before he finally leaned forward against the table.  
"All right, Hermione. I never could get anything by you." He laced his fingers and blew out an agitated breath. "I lied. I wasn't hoping to discuss schoolyard memories with you." Draco waited a moment, then nervously unlaced his fingers. Hermione cocked a skeptical eyebrow at him.  
"Well? What is it then?" He stared down at his hands, then looked up with faded gray eyes.  
"This." He leaned across the table with surprising speed and -- before Hermione could stop him -- pressed his lips to hers.  
  
Hermione let out a startled squeak and pushed him away.  
"Malfoy!" she cried, leaning back in her chair. He didn't look at all surprised; Draco sat back and smirked.  
"I expected that."  
"Malfoy-- of all the dirty, underhanded--" Hermione grasped for words, sputtering. "--to even _think _about making that sort of--"  
"Try to contain your contempt, Hermione," chuckled Malfoy. "I've been holding that in for a long time." The words -- perhaps even more than the kiss -- caught her by surprise.  
"What-- I don't understand," she said cautiously. He smiled coolly at her.  
"That's why I called you here. To tell you that..." Now he seemed to falter. Hermione frowned a little.  
"That...?" Draco gave her another smooth smile, but she could see he was uneasy.  
"That I love you."  
  
_  
You're the sweet crusader  
And you're on your way  
You're the last great innocent  
And that's why  
I love you  
  
_She gazed at him in shock. His gray eyes towards the table now, he went on. Now that the words were out, Draco couldn't seem to stop them.  
"I love you, Hermione. I always have."  
"But--" Uncomfortable once again, Hermione shook her head. "If you loved me, why did you--"  
"Act like such an ass?" he finished quietly. "To cover. It simply wouldn't do if a Malfoy should show emotion." Another uneasy pause lingered in the air between them. When she spoke, it was soft and careful.  
"Draco, you do know I'm married." He didn't answer for a moment. Then he nodded.  
"Yes. I know." Draco smirked at his hands. "Damn that Weasley. He always had everything I wanted." The shock of his first confession was too great to have her asking any more questions. Hermione just shook her head again.  
"Draco-- you've changed. You've changed since we left Hogwarts."  
"Don't hold that against me," he muttered. She squinted at him.  
"No, you've changed in a good way. Now-- you're trying to do good. You're putting others before yourself." Hermione smiled a little. "That's very honorable."  
"Honor doesn't mean a thing," Draco mumbled, then added something under his breath. The shadows were disrupted as the lights flickered a little; even though he was slumped against his chair, face tilted down, Hermione could see the tears that stung his eyes.  
"Oh, Draco-- I didn't mean to hurt your--" Sensing her gaze, Malfoy tipped his face farther down, burying his chin in the collar of his shirt.  
"You didn't hurt a _thing_," he murmured. "I needed this."  
"Needed what?" she asked quietly. Draco stared at the buttons of his shirt with disinterest.  
"I always knew that you hated me. I just needed to hear you say it."_  
  
So take this moment, Mary Jane  
And be selfish  
Worry not about the cars that go by  
'Cause all that matters, Mary Jane  
Is your freedom  
So keep warm, my dear  
Keep dry  
  
_"But I _don't_," she protested loudly, and a few patrons looked at her. She lowered her voice. "I don't hate you, Draco. I just-- don't love you." Draco blinked, then muttered something that sounded like,  
"Same thing." Hermione reached across the table and grasped his hand firmly.  
"Listen-- I can't stay. I have to be getting to work. But I just want you to know that meeting with you like this... It really helped." She saw his head tilt curiously. Hermione smiled. "I always kept a vision of you in my mind of a spoiled brat with bad blood."  
"Oh, thanks," he mumbled. She tightened her grip on his hand.  
"But now that I got to talk with you... I know that's not right." Hermione paused, then gave his hand a pat and pulled away. "You're a good person, Draco Malfoy." He stared at his hands for a few moment before he looked up.  
"Thanks." Draco cracked a small grin that was an attempt at being pleasant. "I... I suppose I needed to hear that too." Hermione smiled warmly, leaning towards him.  
"I want to hear from you again," she murmured. "How's tomorrow at the same time?"  
"Fine. Not like I have anywhere to be anyway." Draco looked up blankly, his freed emotions caged once again. Hermione hesitated, then gave him a quick kiss on his pale cheek.  
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow, Draco." Smiling a little at the surprised look on his face, she heaved herself from her chair and brushed off her dress. "Take care of yourself."  
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but she could see a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. And it seemed all had been said; she headed for the door, shoes clicking sharply against the floor.  
  
The bartender watched her leave, then shot a glare to Draco.  
"You had best watch yourself, Malfoy," he said vehemently, curling a lip. "If anything happens to her--" But his words were lost; his ears were not for the bartender. They were trying desperately to catch every last click of high heels, every swish of no-nonsense business dress fabric.  
"Mm hm," Draco mumbled, and smiled to himself. Absolution was a good thing, as his father had always said. For once, he was right. Pulling his tired body to a standing position, he scowled down at the black mark on his arm. Silly matters needed to be set aside -- there was work to be done. And with that, the shadow swept from the Leaky Cauldron and out into the world of light. Some sneered at him, some shook their heads, others clucked their tongues.  
  
But he didn't care.  
  
He had absolution._  
  
Tell me  
Tell me  
What's the matter Mary Jane..._


End file.
